Chapter 240
Chapter 240:
She looked at Dallas. “Leave us. I want to speak to her. Woman to woman p>
Dallas hesitated, visibly reluctant.
Eliza squeezed his hand. She needed to do this. She needed to face this one herself.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Go p>
𝗥о𝘮an𝖼e 𝗇𝗼𝗏е𝘭𝘀 о𝘯
Dallas searched her face for fear. He found determination instead.
“I’ll be right outside,” he said — the words aimed squarely at Jeannine — and left the heavy oak door intentionally open by a fraction of an inch before walking out, casting one last dark look at his mother.
The door clicked shut — but Dallas had left it slightly ajar. Jeannine noticed. She crossed the room and closed it firmly, sealing them in.
“Sit,” Jeannine said, gesturing to a Louis XIV chair opposite the sofa.
Eliza sat. Back straight, hands folded in her lap.
“You think you won because Ferd threw a tantrum,” Jeannine began, pouring herself another cup of tea. She did not offer one to Eliza.
“No,” Eliza said. “I think we survived p>
Jeannine paused, the teapot hovering in mid-air. She looked at Eliza with a flicker of genuine surprise. “Dallas is a difficult man,” she said, setting the pot down. “He is damaged p>
“He is strong,” Eliza corrected her.
“He is obsessed,” Jeannine countered, her voice clinical. “He fixates. First it was building the company — he worked until he collapsed. Now it’s you.” She stirred her tea, the spoon clinking rhythmically against the china. “You are a phase, Eliza. A rebellion against us. He chose a Solomon because he knew Ferd hated your family. He chose you to hurt us p>
She set the spoon down. “When the novelty wears off, he will see you for what you are. A liability p>
She used the word like a weapon. It echoed Dallas’s own words from weeks ago — but coming from her, it was pure malice.
“He already called me a liability,” Eliza said calmly. “And he married me anyway p>
Jeannine stopped. She looked at Eliza — really looked at her — for the first time.
“You have spirit,” she admitted, though it sounded more like an indictment than a compliment. “I’ll give you that. But spirit doesn’t host galas. Spirit doesn’t manage board wives. You are out of your depth p>
She leaned forward. “Leave him. I will ensure you live comfortably — Paris, or Milan. I have an apartment in the 7th arrondissement. It’s yours. Plus a monthly stipend p>
A bubble of laughter rose in Eliza’s throat. It was so perfectly clichéd — the wealthy mother trying to buy off the poor girl.
“I’m not for sale, Mrs. Koch,” Eliza said, placing her hands on the arms of the chair.
“Everyone is for sale,” Jeannine smiled, cold and certain. “The price simply varies. What is yours? A gallery? A studio p>
The door opened.
Dallas walked back in. He hadn’t gone far at all.
“Time’s up,” he said.
“We were just chatting,” Jeannine said, leaning back with an air of innocence.